


Not quite fighting fit

by Mickeysam



Series: Taking in Strays [4]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Accidental Baby Acquisition, Domestic, F/M, Fluff, Kid Wanda Maximoff, Parent Natasha Romanov, Parent Steve Rogers, Sick Fic, Team Dynamics, Team as Family, established romanogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-13
Updated: 2019-04-13
Packaged: 2020-01-12 13:21:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18447416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mickeysam/pseuds/Mickeysam
Summary: For someone who never thought they'd have children, Natasha managed to do pretty damn well when faced with becoming an adoptive and foster mother at the same time. Shame the baby books didn't exactly coach through baby's first cold, teens with confidence issues and PTSD, or anxious new dads who panic over common colds.





	Not quite fighting fit

"C'mon buddy, you love sweet potato rice cereal. Try a bite?" Steve's tone may have been cheerful, but Natasha could hear Steve’s personal disdain for the mixture in it.

  
Ilya's like of cereal depended upon the day, what had been mixed in with it, his temperament, and possibly the stars alignment, given how often it ended up used as gel in his hair, staining his clothing, or splattered across his parents. Clint told them they needed a dog, just to clean up the floor from splattered baby food.

‘ _It’s the most efficient method, trust me, and harder to trip over than one of those roombas.’_  


Steve had heartily disagreed.

 

"Please? One bite for Daddy?"

 

Natasha glanced away from her phone, ignoring the news and watching Steve try to feed their 6 month old instead as he sat across from her.  He made the same encouraging faces as lame dads in sitcoms, and it almost made her roll her eyes. It was like that ‘Incredibles’ movie that Cooper and Lila loved.

The overly strong dorky dad hunched at the table, sleeves rolled up as he tried to coerce his giggly infant son into eating anything that wasn’t milk.

  
Steve currently sported a fetching orange splatter pattern on his bare forearms from Ilya blowing a raspberry against the spoon.

 

"C'mon, here comes the airplane, brrrrm!"

 

Ilya's response to Steve's enthusiasm was another raspberry, hands slapping the tray, and a very loud sneeze that had him jolting backwards in the highchair.

 

Natasha laughed, "Bless you!"

 

Ilya spluttered, clapping his hands together and chewing on his fist instead of the offered food.

 

"Did you hear that?" Steve frowned, setting the spoon on the table with the little bowl of food.

 

"The gigantic sneeze? Yeah, I heard." Natasha made a face at Ilya, reaching out and drumming her fingers lightly against the tray. Ilya laughed, patting his hand over hers. She made another face at the drool and cereal on his fingers, and blew a raspberry at him, a motion he returned with enthusiasm.  
Maybe it was encouraging him to make a mess, but Steve did the same whenever she fed him, and Ilya loved it.

 

"No, the sniffle." Steve touched Ilya's forehead with the back of his fingers. "He sniffled."

 

"Well, he did sneeze." Natasha pointed out, wiping her hand off on the burp rag Steve kept nearby to clean up Ilya afterwards.

 

Steve frowned, "That wasn't a sneeze sniffle."

 

"I didn't hear anything."  


She hadn't heard a sniffle, but she could almost hear the worried dad mode in Steve kicking on, the whirling of gears in his head that told him to coddle and protect anyone sick. An instinct ingrained, Natasha was sure, through growing up in a world of polio, measles, scarlet fever, tuberculosis, and whooping cough.

 

"It was a sniffle." Steve asserted again, letting Ilya grab his hand with a squeal, little fingers clutching his much larger ones. "It could be a cold. Clint said they get sick after shots."

 

"That's normally the day of or after, says Laura," Natasha countered, "It's been more than a few days. Plus sometimes a sneeze is just a sneeze."

 

Steve made a noncommittal noise, leaning down enough to look Ilya in the eyes with a very serious look. A very serious look that was quickly ruined by chubby palms covered in spit and baby food slapping his cheeks happily.

 

* * *

  


It wasn't just a sneeze, that much Natasha gathered over the next few hours. It started as some sneezing, but by noon Ilya was fussing more, and his eyes watering.

 

"You just had to prove me wrong, huh sweetheart?" Natasha sighed, rocking in place to try and soothe Ilya. He didn't feel overly hot, but he was a little warm. "You're meant to take my side, you know that right?"

 

Ilya didn't reply beyond snuffling noises as he attempted to chew on his fingers, his other hand clutching her shirt.

 

"Wanna tell me what's wrong? I can't fix a problem when I don’t know what the problem is, sweetheart." Ilya didn't have an answer anymore than Natasha did, or at least he didn’t have the ability to voice it. She kissed his cheek and sighed, "It's okay, we'll figure it out. We can always figure things out. That's what we're best at."

 

She learned quickly that any attempt to put her sniffling son down anywhere led to crying and flickering blue lights, so Natasha wrapped him up in his sling instead to keep him against her chest Once Ilya was wrapped up close to Natasha, he quieted down and snuggled into his mother, his head against her chest as he sucked on his pacifier.

  
It left her unable to train, or do anything too physical, but it kept him from becoming upset, so Natasha accepted the trade-off. She texted Sam asking him to take over as Wanda's supervising officer for training for the day, texting Steve to tell him Ilya wasn't feeling well, she was staying out of training.

  
Sam sent back a quick 'no problem' to her message, but Steve didn't reply, leaving it as 'read'.

 

"That means, baby boy, that we have about three minutes before your daddy comes running up here trying to act like he's not immediately panicked and thinking about all the deadly illnesses you don't have."

 

Ilya's only reply was his hand gripping her t-shirt like a comfort toy. Deciding against hanging out in the main room where others often came and stuck around relaxing, she headed back to the room they shared at the compound. She shut it quietly behind her, bypassing the bed and instead making herself comfortable on Steve's oversize plush chaise lounge that served as his reading nook when he didn't need to sleep, and where he sat with Ilya for most late night bottles.

 

It smelled like him, when she reclined back against the overly squishy pillows, settling with her hand on Ilya's back. She wasn't sure if the baby could notice, given how stuffed up he seemed to be slowly becoming, but he wriggled a little on her chest, relaxing with a much put upon sigh.

 

Sure enough, it was only a few minutes before the sound of someone running up the stairs hit her ears, boots on the hall floor leading back to their room. Steve didn't look flushed or winded when he opened the door to their room, though his hair was a little out of place.

 

He'd obviously left their gym in a hurry, as he had on his boots and uniform pants, but hadn't swapped out his tank top for an undershirt yet. "What's wrong?"

 

"He's just not feeling great," Natasha offered, shifting a little so Steve could sit on the edge of the lounge next to her. "Sniffles, grumpy. Normal cold symptoms most humans get."

 

"You sure?" Steve stroked Ilya's curls with the back of his fingers, gaining him a side glance and a noise around a pacifier. "I knew that wasn't just a normal noise." Steve slid off the lounge, kneeling next to it instead to look Ilya in the eyes while the baby was paying attention to him, "You're wheezy aren't you?"

 

Natasha had to smile, "Only to your ears, I haven't caught much beyond him starting to get clogged up."

 

"He is, just a bit." Steve pressed a kiss to Ilya's forehead, leaning back on his heels afterwards, "He's warm."

 

"We all feel warm to you," Natasha countered, looking for the right words to try and keep him from worrying too much, despite being a little worried herself. "Babies are meant to be hotter than adults I think."

 

"Yeah," Still Steve frowned, brushing Ilya's curls with his fingers again and getting his hand grabbed by the baby,his finger held tightly. "I'm sorry, bud. I know feeling sick isn't any fun." Steve rested his head on Natasha's shoulder to talk to Ilya and she had to resist the urge to laugh and run her fingers through his hair too. "But you're lucky, if you have breathing issues now you don't get cigarettes or told it's psychological. Yeah, Sam says there's something called a nebulizer, or humidifiers."

 

"Only for big breathing issues. If he gets too bad we can always stick him in the sauna," Natasha did brush her fingers over Steve's hair then, resting her hand on the nape of his neck, "Go, throw our recruits around, beat them into shape."

 

"And leave you two all alone?"

 

"We'll be fine. Let him nap some, read a book or two. Not like I'm going to protest some quiet time, right?" She nudged Steve gently, "Both of us hovering isn't going to help much. It's okay, go beat up some newbies."

 

"I don't actually beat them up, you know," He kissed Ilya's cheek again, leaning up to kiss Natasha's as well, "Sam's just a whiner."

 

"Sam's a whiner, you're a taskmaster, and you have terrible aim." Natasha pulled Steve down gently by the strap of his tank top for a real kiss then nudged him away again. "Sam said he'll take over SO duty for Wanda while training. If you get him sent through a wall on accident I want it on video."

 

"She's better with her powers than that," Steve climbed to his feet, reluctantly heading for the door again, "It's more likely he'll be flung into a wall and slide like one of those Tom and Jerry cartoons."

 

"Oh if that happens I'll definitely need video of it."

 

\---

 

Sitting in the silence wasn't appealing, so instead Natasha read aloud while Ilya rested, reading some children's book she found on Steve's well used kindle about bad toys and good toys on a mission to find someone to make more toys.

The illustrations were a little dark, but Ilya couldn't see them, and she doubted he even grasped the concept of the story, let alone cared about any of it. He just liked listening to her talking, feeling her words through her chest.

 

Each time he'd start to doze off into a nap he'd wake himself up snoring or coughing from the stuffy nose, an issue compounded by his pacifier, but Ilya refused to give up the comfort it gave.

 

Eventually Natasha gave up on laying still, and headed off to at least wander around. Ilya was content enough to sleep when they were waking most of the time anyway. It was how she and Steve had gotten him to sleep a lot the first few weeks.

 

"Maybe we'll go see what your daddy's up to, huh?" Natasha checked her phone, flipping through the security cameras the compound had until she located their group of misfits outside on the lawn by the gym. "Training in the sunshine, or working with Sam in the air, what do you think? Either way we can watch from the walkway. Wanna go watch with me?"

Ilya didn't have a response for her, but she walked towards the gym anyway, patting his back lightly as they went. That seemed to help him, or at least comforted him and made him less grumpy.

She detoured by the locker rooms to get her own earpiece from her locker before jogging up the stairs to the walkway atop the gym, where she could look out the large windows and onto the grounds.

 

"Hey, they got everyone out today," Natasha rubbed Ilya's back lightly, leaning back against the railing.

 

Steve, Wanda, and Sam were holding their own on the lawn, while Vision seemed to be pairing with Rhodey to work on targeting, corralling them with some little red lights that looked like they might have been burning the grass.

At least he wasn't tearing up the law like last time, she was pretty sure their groundskeeper hadn't been so upset since Thor branded the lawn.

 

Natasha fit the earpiece into her ear and took a seat on the floor, moving Ilya from his sling to up against her shoulder, smiling at his long sigh, and the way his hand instantly went to tangle in her hair.

 

The voices that came through on the comm carried a conversation that was only basic instructional chattering, with Sam directing Wanda on how to move, where to keep her weight when taking defensive stances; the basic movement that would eventually become muscle memory, to where Wanda wouldn't have to think before moving.

 

The girl was much better than she'd been the first time Natasha had ever taken her to the gym to start training, and was much less worried about using her powers now. It had taken weeks of reassurance and small uses of her powers before they could convince Wanda to use them in training or combat, and even then she'd been worried she'd harm someone by accident.

Bar Rhodey being flung through the glass while in his armor however, no big incidents had happened. Even that incident the Colonel had graciously laughed off, trying to assure her he'd had worse, including a tale about the time he and Tony had destroyed Tony's home in Malibu.

That particular party story that wasn't as funny from Natasha's point of view, but it had Rhodey in stitches and Vision smiling.

 

"What do you think, sweetheart, who's going to win? Do we give the odds to Daddy, Uncle Sam, and your Wanda, or to Rhodey and Vision?" Ilya's whine and kicking feet was more likely to do with the giant sneeze that happened moments later than it was to do with the mention of Vision, but it still made her laugh. "Yeah, my bet's on Daddy too," She agreed, pulling a handkerchief from her pocket to wipe his nose against his protests.

 

On the ground the trio was being herded in closer, with Steve trying to shield against Rhodey and Vision’s attacks long enough that Sam could take flight.

It wasn't working unfortunately. Anytime Sam got close to taking off Vision would redirect or Rhodey would open fire again with his evil rubber bullets, forcing Sam to shelter behind his wings as a shield, as Steve’s attention went back to shielding Wanda, trying to give her protection as she herself attempted to knock Rhodey out of the sky while maintaining cover.

  
Wanda sounded a little breathless over the comms, a hint of anxiety to her words, as she asked them what to do. How was she supposed to move, to act, when the flying duo were keeping them in one location. Her magic flickered around her like a light, almost pale pink in the bright sunlight. It wasn’t a strong one, no wonder Steve was trying to shelter her.

 

"Should I help them? It's not cheating to have eyes in the sky, that's just normally Uncle Sam's job," Natasha mused, listening to Sam try to clearly instruct Wanda who seemed nervous to look around the shield and Steve to spot her target.

There were no protests from Ilya at the idea, and in fact his breathing began to even out again as he began to doze. She didn't expect his nap to last more than a few minutes before he woke snorting and fussing again, but at least it was something.

 

Natasha cleared her throat, flipping her comm to open so she could be heard as well as listen in on their training tactics."Don't forget you have a shield too, Wanda,” Natasha spoke over Sam cursing to himself about androids and ‘freaking laser beams’, “You don’t have to rely on the guys.”

 

On the ground the teen looked around instinctively, peering out over the shield, startled and searching for her SO, "Natasha?"

 

"On the walkway, hi," Natasha gave a little wave through the glass, but she didn’t expect they saw her very clearly. "When you're pinned down, you need your heavy hitters free. If they're both focusing on keeping their other teammates out of fire, you're all stuck and they're completely useless. Try and bring up your shield a bit stronger. It doesn't have to be a big shield, just see if you can shift it and block Sam on his way up."

 

"I don't know if my powers can block Vision," Wanda worried, still uncertain of herself at times, "He might be hit."

 

"Vision's working on low power. The worst Sam's going to get is a sunburn, or his wings losing power, in which case he glides to a landing and can shield himself before returning fire. You never know until you try, so try." Natasha encouraged her, trying to track both the team on the ground, and the duo in the air who kept up a constant enough stream there wasn’t a clear way out unless Wanda could get them freed up.

 

"Woman's got a point," Sam sounded cheerful enough and he gave her a wave without looking back at the walkway, "Just don't launch me like you did Cap, alright?"

 

"I'll try," Wanda sounded dubious.

 

"Tell me when, I’ll keep you shielded," Steve promised, ever the protector.

 

Natasha watched as out on the field the flickers of red appeared to brighten, and slowly a bubble of it seemed to grow bigger behind Steve and his shield where he kept Wanda protected. It flickered in and out a few times before the bright red light shone even in the daylight.

Wanda took a deep breath, "Go."

 

The tiny shield Wanda had held around them shifted, shooting out to surround Sam instead, just as Steve grabbed her and crouched, imitating a turtle and hiding them both behind his shield.

 

Sam's take to the skies was a little faster than Natasha had seen before, and most likely a little assisted by Wanda, but he was able to get clear and out of range quickly enough, her shield only dissipating when he was some distance into the air, if the fading red was any indication.

 

"That was like a takeoff with NOS," Sam laughed, even though now he was stuck in the air, trying to avoid Rhodey's undivided attention. "Maybe that is useful."

  
“You sure it’s not more like Redbull? Heard that gives you wings.”

 

“Funny, Rogers.”

 

Speaking of.

 

"Now what was that about flinging Steve?" Natasha asked curiously, tracking where he was on the ground. The red magic bubble had appeared again, now surrounding Wanda on the field. "Please tell me it's on video."

 

"Gym security," Steve sounded more amused than annoyed, only slightly breathless as he popped up from the ground, flinging his shield at Vision, only to have it phase through him without affect. "Wanda?"

 

"On it."

 

Midair the shield froze, surrounded by red as it's trajectory reversed, sending it back to Steve with much more speed than it'd been flung with.

 

Steve grunted when he caught it right before it hit his stomach, Wanda mumbling an apology for the speed. "I startled her. My bad. She sent me up in the air. Plus side," Steve offered, and she could picture his smile in her mind, "We've figured out we can use her powers as a boost, and send me really far."

 

Natasha laughed, "Oh really? How far?"

 

"Your disk golf champion landed on the roof like Santa Clause," Rhodey's voice interrupted them, "I had to rescue him. Training from the windows is totally cheating, Romanov."

 

"It’s not," she replied, over Sam and Steve's complaints about Rhodey listening in on _their_ channel, "It's strategic."

 

"Yeah well strategize later, unless you're putting the little guy down for a nap and coming out here yourself."

  
  
\---

 

"Sensitive eyes on the floor," Natasha called out as she entered the locker room, heading for her own locker to put her earpiece away, "Please avoid traumatizing the baby, people."

 

"Not like we got anything he doesn't," She heard Sam call back over the sound of running water.

 

Rhodey snorted loudly, "If that's true, Sam, I feel really sorry for you."

 

"Ignore them," Natasha patted Ilya's back, ignoring the good natured insults now being shot back and forth from the shower stalls, "They're dumb boys. You're a smart one."

 

"In my experience," Wanda spoke up, already finished showering and settled on a bench in her normal clothes, brushing out her hair, "All boys are the dumb ones. Is he still feeling poorly?"

 

Whenever Wanda was involved in training, the girls always got a head start on showering and changing clothes. For some reason it seemed none of the men wanted to be in a locker room with an undressed teenage girl without at least a curtain between them.  
Somehow, however, they held no such compunctions about Natasha having to see their bruised, sweaty selves, or changing around her.

Well, they averted their eyes but didn't flinch and pale at the idea of sharing a locker room with her. She couldn't blame them, to be fair it would be slightly unnerving to share a locker room with someone of the opposite gender that much younger, but it did amuse her.

 

"Yeah, he's pretty miserable." Natasha took a seat by Wanda, letting Ilya see the girl. Ilya let out a huffing noise that might have been a muffled sneeze, or a complaint, feet kicking against Natasha's thigh.

 

Maybe the steam in the air would help him breathe a little better.

 

"I'm sorry, you must be more like me than your dad," Wanda apologized as if it were her fault they weren't the same sort of enhanced human as Steve was, "But at least colds come with being carried around?"

 

"As if he's not carried all day anyway," Natasha let Wanda take him when Wanda held out her hands and Ilya actually grabbed on to them, "Don't be offended if he grumbles and wants right back."

 

"Of course not," Wanda still snuggled him to her shoulder, kissing his temple while his hands tangled instantly in her still damp hair, "did you watch us train? Yes? Did you see me help Uncle Sam fly?" She shot Natasha a sideways glance, looking sheepish suddenly, "Are you angry I threw Steve?"

 

Natasha scoffed, "Not if he asked for it. I've seen that man jump out of planes without a parachute, and I know for fact he's jumped out of a least one very tall building and bounced. And, okay to be fair," Natasha made a face, tilting her head, "I've used his shield as a trampoline enough times that it'd be hypocritical to say anything about him using your powers."

 

Wanda frowned at the unfamiliar word, "Trampoline?"

 

"Ah, it's a thing kids bounce on. It's stretchy material between metal springs normally held up on poles that let you jump high in the air... remind me to take you to a trampoline park, or get one for here."

 

"Sounds... fun," Wanda looked like she didn't believe her own words and Natasha couldn't help but laugh.

 

"It can be, it’s good for training new acrobatic moves on at least. I think Clint had one briefly. You know, tossing Steve around might be a good tactical move. We can use him as a projectile and throw him into the enemy. Thor says it's a great method of distraction, nothing quite like 'death from above'."

 

Wanda snorted, "We could use him as a human bowling ball. What do you think, little man, can we bowl for bad guys with your papa?"

 

Ilya sighed heavily, chewing on a fistful of Wanda's hair.

 

"You're gross, sweetheart." But Natasha laughed all the same, helping Wanda untangle him, "I don't think your Wanda wants your germs in her clean hair."

 

The brokenhearted tears that started once he was untangled were marred by the wheezing as he tried to breathe through his nose, looking and sounding rather pathetic. "Here," Wanda popped his dropped pacifier back in his mouth, letting him return to playing with her hair now that his mouth was safely occupied. "Do you think I could make the iron suits bounce," Wanda asked after a moment, a mischievous smile starting.

 

"That depends where you plan on flinging them."

 

"Only at the enemy," She promised with a smile, though Natasha could see her fingers crossed under Ilya's legs where she held him.

 

"Or if you get 'startled'?" Natasha raised an eyebrow, fixing the teen with a stern look. Wanda had the grace to smile, half hide her face against Ilya's shoulder. The girl wouldn’t actually do it, she wasn’t that mean without outside influence, but she’d probably think about doing it. "Try it with Rhodey, we'll human bowling ball him too. As for Stark... are you still pretending you don't speak English when he's around, or have we progressed to civility?"

 

"Not speaking is civility," Wanda answered, but gave a half shrug, "I spoke briefly. He accused me of quoting a movie at him, something called 'The Princess Bride'? I didn't see the need to continue our conversation."

 

Natasha frowned, running through the possibilities from what she remembered of the movie in her head before scoffing, "We'll have to put on that movie to watch next movie night. Steve probably hasn't seen it either. Anyway, training," Natasha nudged Wanda with her elbow, trying to switch back to professional-but-friendly supervising officer mode, "You froze."

 

Wanda made a face, "I didn't mean to."

 

"I know. But you froze. You were pinned down and without me there directing you, you didn't know which way to move."

 

"You've always directed me," Wanda defended herself, "That's why you're training me."

 

"You're right. We might have to switch things up in the future, try to get you to where you feel confident enough in returning fire or blocking teammates so they can, even when pinned down. Even if I’m not there. Freezing is a hard instinct to fight," Natasha held up her hand, interrupted whatever Wanda tried to interject with, "Self preservation isn't exactly something that can be shut down overnight, or without a significant reason. And fear can be lifesaving in the field, but freezing under fear isn't something that's beneficial. For anyone, really. It can get dangerous, deadly."

  
"I know."

 

It was odd, training someone who for all intents and purposes was a normal teenager. Even inside SHIELD-turn-HYDRA Wanda had mostly been kept away from violence. Or at least the kind that came from fighting in battles on the field. Wanda was meant to fight in the war of minds, not hand to hand with potential bloodshed. It wasn't that Wanda was too delicate to do it, or that she didn't have the stomach for it, Natasha was sure of that much, but that her nerves weren't quite what they should be for any sort of agent or ‘avenger’.

  
At least not all the time. When it was just Vision they practiced against, or any of the guys in hand to hand combat, Wanda was fine. Even when she got her ass kicked time and time again, she'd get up, dust herself off, and try again. Once anything Stark related entered the field, including Rhodey in his War Machine armor, or she had to start using her magic in large measures, her nerves began to get the better of her, making her hesitate and second guess every move.

 

If Natasha was at her side she could be snapped out of it, but as they'd seen today she was lost without more direct instructions. Sam and Steve tried their best, but they had gone the soft approach of suggesting and light direction, instead of more straightforward instructions like Natasha chose to use.

 

"Once you let yourself get to the point where you’re pinned down, when you freeze in fear, it keeps those who can fight pinned with you because they turn into protectors and ignore the offense/defense they're meant to be playing. It's dangerous," Natasha repeated her earlier words, hoping they’d stick more now that Wanda wasn’t distracted by fighting, "And can be deadly."

 

"I know," Wanda patted Ilya's back lightly, humming to him quietly. She was occupying herself, thinking and trying to formulate whatever answer or question she had for Natasha. The type of reply, Natasha was sure, that you normally wouldn't get until you were halfway across the room with your hand on the door handle.

 

"I do not like the bullets." Wanda said eventually, tucking her head down against Ilya's, resting her head against him to try and hide herself a little, to occupy herself with anything but her words.

 

"No one likes them, Wanda." Natasha told her gently, "It's something you have to get used to hearing."

 

"I grew up hearing them almost every night, I am used to them." Wanda sounded bitter when she said it, but her tone changed when Ilya fussed, turning to quiet reassurances in Sokovian that settled both of them a little. "I grew up at war, but they still make my heart race, and I feel like I cannot breathe when they're so near."

 

"Panic," Natasha cursed herself for not thinking of that. It was her job to think of things like that, how had that slipped by? Wanda had grown up with war all around her.

She’d lost her twin to a hail of bullets that no one could ever make up for.

Wanda hadn't been so afraid the last few times they'd practiced with Rhodey firing non-lethal projectiles, but then again she'd had Natasha by her side every time. "We can work on that, okay? Help you get around that." As much as anyone could get around the type of fear something like that imprinted on a person.

 

"How can I fight and help when bullets scare me?" Wanda asked her, voice heavier than it had been, "When the idea of a Stark weapon firing near me has my stomach in knots?"

  
And there it was.

 

"We'll work on it, Wanda. Maybe we should have a sit down chat or two with Sam, but we'll work on it. Did you get hurt?"

 

Wanda shook her head dismissively, "One shot, I was not expecting it."

 

"Hey uh, ladies?" she heard Rhodey call out from the showers where the water had turned off finally, and there was the noise of curtains moving, towels being pulled from their hooks, "Any chance of letting us out anytime soon? Gets pretty cold back here."

 

"Oh, is that your excuse? Good one, but that was dated back when I was a kid." Steve scoffed loudly. He'd probably been listening in to their conversation, Natasha knew, but he'd probably have the tact not to say much about it.

 

"You know what, Rogers-"

 

"Let's go get you an ice pack and check out your war wound," Natasha took Ilya back from Wanda with a little protest from the boy who settled after a moment, hands clutching her shirt, "Continue this chat where there's less of a chance of curse words and naked men we don't want to see."

 

* * *

 

 

As the night went on Ilya's fussiness grew, reaching a peak when he realized that instead of guzzling down his evening bottle like he always did, he was stuck drinking it slowly and taking frequent breaks to be able to breathe with his nose stuffed up.

The crying fit it caused made him cough and gag, making everything worse for him than it had been before, which made him cry harder.

He violently rejected the first two does of infant cold medicine that Clint and Laura swore would work wonders on their grouchy little guy, managing to coat Natasha's shirt in a gooey opaque syrup. The third worked, only by virtue of Steve distracting him making faces so Natasha could squirt the dose into the back of his mouth while Ilya wasn't paying attention to her. He'd coughed and sputtered, and looked utterly betrayed, but it wasn't long before he was in a better mood.

 

It made him calm enough he was willing to stay in Steve's arms, and snuggle up to him, so long as Natasha was nearby and not too far out of sight.

 

Which led to Steve sat against the wall of their private bathroom, legs sprawled out in front of him with Ilya on his lap so Natasha could shower and change for bed.

The steam helped Ilya breathe a little more, so the peace she'd normally find in a shower was interrupted every so often by the sound of Steve using the nose bulb on the poor baby, and Ilya's grouchy protests that occasionally came with a light flash of blue.

 

"You're going to make him angry enough he's not going to want to sleep," Natasha warned Steve, peering out at the vague blur of her boys through the frosted glass of the shower wall, "And then we'll all be up all night."

 

"I'm always up all night," Steve countered, his voice still as full of concern as it'd been all day. Even Clint had teased him in their brief call about how worried dad he sounded. "I'll keep him company."

 

"Sleep is good for when you're sick, or at least for us mostly normal humans. Surely you remember that much?"

 

Steve made a noise of agreement, "I couldn't sleep from coughing a lot. I'd sit up against the wall so I could breathe. Think sitting up will help him sleep better?"

 

"I think he'll sleep just fine laying against one of us," Natasha agreed. It always hurt on some level to hear how sick Steve actually had been before Carter, Erskine, and Stark got their hands on him. How unlikely he would have been to have actually make it to the age he was now. "He's already spoiled by sleeping with us half the time anyway."

 

"He's not spoiled," Steve protested, sounding offended on Ilya's behalf, "you can't spoil a baby with love."

 

"Have you been posting on the internet parenting boards again?" Natasha tried not to laugh, eyes closed as she rinsed soap from her hair, "Or is that one of the baby books you found for free on kindle?"

 

"That's courtesy of my mother, thank you very much," Steve protested, "And yes okay it's been said many times on a few of the forums I've found. Babies need to be held and loved and reassured at all times."

 

"No disagreement here, but it'd probably be nice to have him sleeping in his own bed by time he's my height, you know."

 

"So pre-school?"

 

Natasha glowered at the blur that was Steve, "If you weren't holding our son I'd throw a soap bottle at you."

 

"Love you too. Think he's getting a fever?" Steve switched back to his worry, and Natasha almost sighed.

 

"The thermometer said he's fine, just stuffed up."

 

"He could spike one out of no where."

 

Natasha turned the water off, opening the shower door to grab a towel to wrap around herself, "And we'd notice right away if he did." Ilya made a sleepy noise upon seeing her, making a grabby gestured towards Natasha who just smiled back at him, grabbing another towel to dry her hair with, "You'd notice right away."

 

"Fevers can go high out of no where. I used to get them."

 

They'd already had this conversation, but apparently the fear was still preying on Steve's mind, "Then we use the other baby gunk that helps with fevers too, and keep an eye on it. Humans get fevers, that's just the body at work fighting off a virus." She gave Steve an unnecessary hand to help him up off the floor, accepting Ilya who sleepily tried to reach out for her. "He's not even warm."

 

"You're hot from a shower, everyone feels cold to you," Steve replied, following her back into their bedroom. "But yeah, okay he's not warm... yet."

 

"Fevers are easily dealt with in the modern ages," Natasha sat Ilya down on the bed, letting him sprawl out next to her, "There's medication, ice baths, emergency rooms."

 

"Fits that happen from getting too hot too fast." Steve countered, stretching out on his side next to Ilya, watching the baby.

 

"Fits?"

 

"Seizures, whatever you call them now. I had them, when I was really little." Steve admitted as if it were some shameful secret, "My ma... Mom said when I was really little I'd get so hot I'd have a fit. Stopped as I got older. Think it could happen to him?"

 

Natasha frowned, "It's possible, but I doubt it. Do me a favor, google 'febrile seizures' while I get dressed." She leaned down, pressing a kiss to Ilya's forehead, smiling as he seemed to relax back onto the bed again, palm covering the pacifier Steve returned to him. He was snorting and wheezing a little trying to keep his pacifier in while his nose was so stuffed, and it was almost cute in a pitiful way.

 

"'Febrile seizures'," Steve repeated, though he did pull out his phone to do as asked. She listened to him read what sounded like the start of some Wikipedia article out loud as she dried her hair, taking a seat at the vanity Steve used as often as she did. "How do you know about them?"

 

"Lila had them a few times. I got to hear all about it with the most horrific of panic because Clint had no idea what they were either. He was halfway through an undercover assignment when word made it to Fury about Lila being in the hospital for one, and he got word to Clint. We swapped places, Clint and I, so he could be with his family.”  
  
Normally agents wouldn’t be pulled out of assignments like that, except for major incidents. Which it seemed Carter’s great-grandchild being hospitalized thanks to seizures counted as. Fury may have seemed like a hard ass to everyone around, but Natasha had seen the photos that Laura’s mother had stashed away of a very young Agent Fury around Carter’s grandchildren. When your supervising officer was the director of SHIELD herself, it seemed ‘meeting the family’ was an inevitable consequence.

 

“When I got out three months later I got a very long lecture in all things seizures in infants. He couldn't panic at Laura, because at the time he was a dummy trying to be the strong one and not let her see his fear," she tried not to roll her eyes, beyond happy Clint had learned his lesson there, and that Steve had never felt the need to pull that macho crap and pretend like he wasn't afraid. "Remind me to get you hooked up with a red cross course, or at least some online videos."

 

"Uh huh," Steve may have sounded dismissive, but Natasha was sure he was listening, while consuming any articles he could find at the same time, trying to reconcile all of the symptoms and odds in his head with his child being sick.

 

"I'm pretty sure seizure care has changed from your day, by the way. For one you don't put anything in anyone's mouth anymore." She watched him in the mirror while she brushed out her hair. He was mimicking Ilya now, laying on his back with his phone above him held above his face.

 

Steve made a noise of agreement, and she could hear and see him typing away on his phone. He'd probably consume the entire front page worth of google results, or at least glance over them to 'read' later when he needed to recall what they said.

Sometimes the superhuman comprehension and memory could be annoying, like when he could bring up the exact wording of an article or Wikipedia page to prove a point, other times it was helpful because he could reassure himself with facts instead of worrying with only a paraphrased memory to think back to.

 

"Also we tend not to try and shock them out of it. ECT's more or less just for really big problems with no other solutions now." She opted for borrowing one of Steve's old shirts to wearing over a pair of her shorts, something simple and not too warm as she was sure she'd have a baby draped over her sleeping most the night, and the overgrown heater that was Steve holding both of them. Anything more might make her and Ilya both overheat.

 

"Mmm?"

 

"And we've given up the barbaric practice of restraining them to stop them from moving, that causes more pain." Natasha sat back down next to him on the bed, and lifted Ilya back into her arms, cradling the sleepy baby across her chest, "Now we just sort of turn them onto their sides and wait it out, keep them from hitting their head."

 

"We weren't barbaric," Steve said, brain finally catching up to the conversation as he tucked his phone away, "We just didn't know any better."

 

"I know."

 

"A lot of the world's evils comes with the phrase 'we didn't know any better', huh?" Steve sighed, sitting up again and stretching, his back popping loud enough it almost made Natasha wince.

 

"A lot, but most of it came with people apologizing when they did learn better. Might want to find your own pajamas, I think he's ready for bed." Natasha rubbed Ilya's back lightly through his footie pajamas, feeling the baby's breath slowing into a slightly more labored version of his normal sleeping pattern.

 

"You stole my shirt." Steve stood anyway, heading towards his dresser where he emptied his pockets onto the top of it. It was always amazing how much crap men kept in their pockets, even more so when it was Steve who seemed to stash a diaper bag's worth of emergency supplies somehow miraculously into his blue jeans.

 

"You have pants left." Natasha scooted up on the bed, climbing under the sheets at the top, relaxing back against her pillow. Ilya's hands clutched her top when she moved, his body wriggling around until he was more comfortable again, his head pressed into the crook of her neck, knees tucked underneath him. "I only take half of your pajamas."

 

"'What's mine is yours'?" Steve asked wryly. He carefully placed his button up and under shirts into the laundry hamper. His belt he left in the loops of his jeans, which he left laying over the bench seat in front of the vanity; his own 'in case of emergency' method of making sure if he had to jump and run in the middle of the night he could at least have jeans on to do it.  


_'You only fight one battle in your skivvies before you realize the error of your ways.'_

 

"Exactly. What's yours is mine, and what's mine is... well, mine, actually. I don't think you could fit into anything I own that wasn't yours to begin with." Natasha considered it, watching Steve dig into his drawers to find a pair of pajama pants he was content with. "I would pay good money to see you in a pair of skinny jeans again though."

 

"Dream away, but no money on earth will get me back into those abominations of nature. You can't even move in them," Steve grumbled. She bit back a laugh when he finally pulled a pair of pajama pants out.

There was absolutely nothing funny about watching Captain America shimmy into a pair of tie top blue pajama pants decorated with overly buff cartoon versions of himself.

Nothing at all.

She really needed to hit up a few more thrift stores and see if she couldn't find more clothes with the older cartoon version of him on them.

 

"Are you tired enough to sleep, or are you going to lie awake for hours obsessively counting breaths?"

 

"I don't obsess," Steve replied with a straight face, climbing into bed next to her under the covers, pulling the covers up around both of them. "I listen with care. And I wouldn't have to if he'd stop shorting out that monitor sock thing Stark made him."

 

"Uh huh, You would anyway." Natasha shifted around to accommodate Steve when he settled on his side next to her, draping his arm over her middle and Ilya's feet. "Because you're you."

 

"Because I'm me," Steve agreed, "And I don't think he's going to sleep much tonight anyway."

 

"Maybe, maybe not. Either the medicine will help and let him get some sleep, or he'll get so grumpy over being sick and miserable and tired, that he causes a blackout." Natasha leaned up just enough to kiss Steve goodnight, making Ilya snuffle in quiet complaint.

 

"Don't jinx us."

 

* * *

  


"How'd you guys sleep last night?" Sam asked tiredly, half hunched over a bowl of cereal at the island counter, perched on the edge of a bar stool.

 

"I feel like this is a trap so you can segue subtly into bitching at me," Steve filled a large coffee mug he snagged from the cupboard with what was left in the coffee pot, setting it aside so he could dig into the fridge for creamer, "So which complaint do you have to level with me?”

 

"Cause I slept worse than in the army," Sam continued on as if Steve hadn't said anything, gesturing with his spoon."Your kid officially cries louder than a new recruit. He's probably a little under 'whining E-1 who stubbed his toe and thinks it's a reason to get out of training', but damn man."

 

"Really? I was thinking he was about on par with you after watching a Hallmark marathon." Steve took a sip of the coffee, leaning back against the counter. It was too sweet for him, but it was warm at least.

 

"Oh low blow," Sam chuckled, taking a rather large bite of his cereal, "Little man okay?"

 

"He's miserable, but he'll survive. No fever, just... basic human misery." Steve couldn't help but smile, leaning over to peer into Sam's bowl, "You must be feeling a bit of misery too if you're openly eating fruity pebbles."

 

"Tell anyone I have them and suffer," Sam threatened possessively, wrapping one arm around his bowl with a light glare.

 

"Oh please," Steve scoffed, "I'm more of a frosted flakes man."

 

Sam shook his head, stuffing another bite of cereal into his mouth, "Uh huh, but your girl would steal these in a heart beat and replace the bag in the box with cheerios. Again."

 

"My 'girl' is she?" Steve traced the heart and star designs on the side of the mug, listening to footsteps coming down the hallway towards them that he was sure Sam couldn’t hear yet.

 

Sam gave a half shrug, "I'd say 'your woman' but that sounds even more sexist and god knows what term you're using today."

 

Steve snorted, "I don't know, I haven't had to decide. Inamorata has a nice ring to it."

 

"No, inamorata is terrible," Natasha interrupted them, still clad in her shorts and Steve's shirt, Ilya on her hip. The baby had been changed out of his pajamas, and into a zip-up Halloween jumper decorated by pumpkins and purple bat. "Inamorato is decent, if you must be Italian about it, but that doesn't work for you. Trade me."

 

Steve agreed evenly, trading out the cup of coffee for his son, kissing the boy's forehead and cradling him to his shoulder when Ilya grumbled. "Italian is the language of love, my darling." He saw her roll her eyes even as she turned away.

 

"I thought that was Spanish?" Sam asked sarcastically, trying to discretely finish his cereal.

 

Natasha set her cup down long enough to jump up onto the island counter, not far away from Sam, settling on it with her legs dangling off the side. "Nope."

 

"How about 'Ladylove'?" Steve bounced Ilya lightly, patting his back when the baby sneezed. Steve tried not to make a face at Ilya rubbing his face against Steve’s shoulder, instead searching for a tissue or paper towel.

 

Natasha tilted her head in thought, "Not bad. So, where are you hiding your cereal this time. Is it the air vents?” She produced a tissue from a pocket Steve didn’t realize her shorts even had, handing it over without spilling any of her coffee. “Is Redwing your accomplice now?”

 

"I have no idea what you mean," Sam dropped his spoon onto the counter top and tipped the bowl up to his mouth, effectively getting rid of the last remaining evidence.

 

"We have security cameras,” Natasha threatened idly, watching him over the rim of her mug.

 

"Not in the common areas." Sam pointed out. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and stood up to put his bowl into the sink, "And I don't have anything to hide anyway."

 

"Uh huh."

 

"So what's the plan today," Sam blatantly changed the subject, "We training, or are we lazing around and praying the little man doesn't infect us all?"

 

"He's not infectious. Probably not infectious," Steve corrected himself, "It's just a cold."

 

"You say that now but next thing you know we'll all be miserable and snotty too. No offense, bud." Sam reached out to touch Ilya's foot then thought better of it, stepping back, "I may be able to treat a cold, but that doesn't mean I want to get one."

 

"They're not that bad."

 

"Says the man who can't get sick," Natasha held her coffee mug between her hands pensively, "I don't often get sick so... If his powers are going a little wonky I'd hate to see what a cold would do to Wanda's."

 

"His powers are going 'wonky' because he's in a mood from being sick," Steve countered, defending his son, "That's not out of his control. I don't think. Wanda knows better than to lash out because she's miserable."

 

"Unless it's Stark, he's fair game and it's funny. I mean," Sam cleared his throat, taking on a more stern tone, "Um, that's very mean and un-cool and we're fostering a friendly atmosphere. Is that adult enough? Or do I need more of a deep voice thing going?"

 

"No," Natasha deadpanned, tapping her nails against the side of her mug, "That's about as adult as I expect around here."

 

"That reminds me," Steve held Ilya to his chest with one hand so he could dig into the cupboards, pulling out one of the glass bottles they had for the baby, and his formula can, "I gotta text him, propose the theory of magic lifting Moljnir. Machine can lift it, what about magic? Magic might be worthy."

 

"Exactly as adult as I expect."

 

* * *

 

The second day went even worse than the first. Ilya spent most of the morning crying since he had no other real method to communicate his upset, or sleeping fitfully, snorting and snoring like an elderly man trying to breathe around his stuffy nose.

The morning fight to get him to take his medicine wasn’t nearly as bad as the night before, with Ilya mostly accepting the horrible fate that awaited him in the form of synthetic cherry flavored cold medication.

Any thoughts towards attempting training – group or individual – were thrown out the window when Ilya decided that either parent leaving his sight was a sin worthy of turning phones off or shorting out microwaves.

  
“Guess it’s a Netflix day,” Steve sighed, taking a spot on the couch, reclining backwards.

 

Natasha joined him, the remote in her hands, “If he doesn’t break the batteries in the remote again.”

 

“Nah, he’s going to be nice. Right, bud? You gonna be happy now we’re here?”

 

The heavy sigh Ilya gave in reply, cuddled into Steve but watching Natasha like a hawk, was enough of an answer.

 

They were halfway through 'Dumbo' when Wanda joined them, settling herself in front of the couch on one of the giant decorative cushions, head resting back on the couch seat next to Natasha.  


Sam joined them about the time Mulan started, taking up the armchair that faced the TV. He let them get as far as ‘honor to us all’ before he spoke up, “So… Three grown adults and you pick Mulan? Really? I get that Disney’s classic, but c’mon.”

 

"I have 70 years of animation to catch up on," Steve pointed out, trying to engage Ilya in watching the bright colors, but the baby couldn't have cared less.

 

"You assume we have movie theaters that show American movies," Wanda said in a half distracted tone, "Or that orphans have money to see them."

 

"You two have spent too much time around Natasha if you're gonna guilt me for insulting kids movies," Sam shook his head, fiddling around with the tiny drone he'd been working on since he sat down. "Fine, but next movie gets at least a PG-13 rating."

 

"How about PG, but we'll switch to live action," Natasha suggested in compromise, trying to keep Ilya from throwing his pacifier in an angry game of 'fetch'.

 

"Fine," Sam rolled his eyes, "Grown ass adults around here and we watch Disney. I swear if you get 'make a man out of you' stuck in my head I'm going to start playing jazz in the gym again. I put up with enough of that from my sister, thanks."

  
"Is 'jazz' bad?" Wanda cocked her head, looking away from the screen and up at them curiously.

 

"Only free jazz," Steve answered before Sam could speak up. "The rest isn't terrible."

 

"Excuse me?" Sam sat the tiny drone down on the arm of his chair, pulling out his phone and unlocking the screen menacingly.

 

Steve met his eyes, staring him down and Natasha sighed, rolling her eyes and ducking slightly in her seat. "Free jazz is like someone threw a jazz band down the stairs," Steve said a little slower than he needed to, keeping a straight face as he did so.

 

"Uh uh," Natasha held up a hand in either direction, "Be musical snobs later. You irritate Steve with that thing and it'll irritate Ilya and I don't want to be shocked if I don't have to be."

 

"Fine, fine," But Sam didn't stick his phone away. He flipped through it, changing the screens and the tiny drone buzzed to life, rising in the air with a tiny whirling noise.

 

"Besides," Natasha moved, folding her legs underneath herself and taking Ilya from Steve to give him a break, "We all know the only bad jazz is Scat singing."

 

"You take that back."

 

"If you plan to bicker can we put the subtitles back on?" Wanda requested, trying not to laugh as she herself ducked down lower and hopefully out of range of the little drone.

 

"This isn't bickering." The tiny drone hovered over Steve, giving Sam's phone a blown up view of the man's face on his screen, "I'm just testing the new guy, that's all. No weapons, just surveillance. Seeing how fast he goes, how quickly he can drop," the drone in question did drop suddenly a solid foot, hovering as it caught itself inches from Steve's face, though Steve didn't flinch. "Man, you are ugly when this close under a camera."

 

"Gee, thanks."

 

"Let's see what the Colonel is up to. Oh, actually," Sam grinned, rearranging himself in the chair, "Let's go bug the cats."

 

Wanda eyed him, "Be nice to the poor kittens."

 

"I am very nice to the stray _ **cat**_ _s_ you all won't stop feeding and letting sleep inside," Sam protested, "In fact I'm giving them a game, something to chase and pretend to hunt. Your Star Wars named favorites might actually be able to catch my guy, in which case I've got to work on how fast it goes."

 

"Only two are named for Star Wars characters," Steve corrected him, briefly going crosseyed at the drone before it took off up, and down the hallway speeding along. "You've got two Hobbits and a Russian kitten running about too."

 

“Yeah, yeah, but I’m pretty sure the Hobbits can’t outpace Solo and the Wookiee.”

 

\---

 

They were almost all of the way through 'the Princess Bride' when the coughing started. Ilya’s coughing quickly turned into gagging and making gasping noises that continued even when Steve sat him upright on his knee, one hand on his chest, the other patting his back.

"What the hell? Ilya, buddy, you have to breathe." Steve half ordered his son, heart in his stomach. "C'mon, kiddo. Sam?"

 

"Mucus," Sam made a face, moving to check on the kid. "He's okay, but he probably doesn't feel like he is." Ilya's hands were clenched and white, underneath the blue light that was beginning to radiate around them. "Babies can't blow their noses, drains in the throat instead which means... Ew." Sam took a few steps back, moving Wanda with him when he did. "Just keep patting, it’s gonna come up."

 

Natasha made a face as well, already grabbing for a burp rag to toss over Steve's lap, "Alright, sweetheart, take a breath for us." She sounded much more put together than Steve did, but still looked almost as nervous.

 

The blue light around Ilya's hands grew brighter and wider with each passing moment, seeming to emanate from his chest as well, making Wanda step back further away from them, pulled in to sit in Sam's old seat. Ilya's face grew redder, eyes wider as he gagged, the blue light completely surrounding himself before it burst outwards across the room as he gagged one last time, and spit up across his unfortunate father's lap.

 

Wanda let out a surprised noise at the light exploding outwards, bringing her own hands up to shield herself. Her magic reacted, covering Sam and herself briefly in a flash of red that met the blue with an audible buzzing noise and seemed to shatter.

 

The room was briefly washed in a bright mixture of blue and red before everything turned black. The TV shut off, the lights dead, all sound gone in an instant.

 

"Sorry," Wanda said weakly into the darkness over the sounds of Ilya retching and Natasha trying to comfort him.

 

"As the only one who's not currently covered in sick, and doesn't have magical powers, I guess that means it's up to me to go sort out the electricity?" Sam sighed loudly in the darkness, hand still protectively on Wanda's shoulder. "Little man needs a bath, more steam, and probably something better than the nose bulb. Guess that's not cutting it."

 

The darkness was illuminated again by tiny flashes of blue as Ilya returned to crying, this time sounding more hurt and sorrowful than mad.

  
"Backup power should kick on in a minute, if the normal isn't back." Steve turned his phone on, giving them a small light in the darkness, enough that Sam could see to open the curtains a little, let more light in. "Is this fatherhood?"

 

"Getting thrown up on and used as a tissue at the same time? Yeah. Just wait til you hit the trifecta and get peed on too," Sam grinned, trying to get Steve to smile too as Ilya started to calm in Natasha's arms, enough that he was willing to snuggle into her instead of trying to throw himself around in anger.

 

"Oh great – Oh brilliant." Steve groaned when the alarm system started chirping at them, the lights beginning to flicker back on, "Is that him, or an actual intruder?" He looked like despite everything he was still willing to hop up and defend them in an instant, one hand on Natasha’s bicep, the other on the back of the couch.

 

"Him." Wanda replied without hesitation, "He doesn't like the noise however, so I don't think he meant to do it."

 

"Okay, Sam go check out the alarms," Natasha delegated, trying to ignore Ilya's wet hands clutching her, or at least why they were wet, "Steve go shower off... Wanda... you're with me. You can play the baby whisperer so I can get little mister here to take more of his medicine, then into a bath without anyone else getting shocked."

 

* * *

 

By day five Ilya was back to his normal self, trying to belly crawl on the living room floor after anything he wasn't meant to have, doing his best to coerce anyone with food into sharing with him.

 

Even enthusiastically eating his bizarrely textured mixtures of cereal and puree.

 

"Your child is a complete menace," Tony told Steve with only a small measure of heat to his words, "How can one tiny demon melt down an entire security system? An entire building down because he doesn't like the sniffles."

 

Steve gave a half shrug, focusing on feeding Ilya bits of peach puree mixed with cereal as the baby eagerly tried to grab the spoon each time it came close, "Kid doesn't like loud noises."

 

"He's the one who made them loud," Tony protested, "I put together a brilliant alarm system, security no one else has, and he sets it off 'by accident' -- I'm sure it's spite, I really am – and then shorts it out again because 'it's noisy'. Really? Your child is a technophobe, and frankly I'm hurt."

 

"He likes phones, and TV's, so long as they play the right music, or shows." Steve disagreed, "Maybe if your alarms played music he'd like them better."

 

Tony narrowed his eyes at Steve, "You really wanna go there? You really want them to be musical? I'll set them to blast 'baby shark' and then we'll see who likes music better than shrieking alarms."

 

"He's more of a Beatles fan," Steve made a face at Ilya who blew a raspberry in return, laughing and clapping his hands so his cereal sprayed outwards.

 

Tony made a face at the mess, taking a step backwards, "I'm living in a really bad trip. I'm sure of it. Cap's making faces at babies who hate technology, the Black Widow's training a new Eastern European assassin... what's next?"

 

"Teaching Vision to cook so he can join the rota when he's actually here."

 

Tony paused, staring at Steve a moment, "You want to make an android cook. I'm pretty sure he lacks taste buds."

 

"Hey, can't be worse than when Rhodey cooks. Does he have sense of flavor besides 'spicy'?"

 

"No. He's lived on Air Force meals for decades," Tony dismissed the question, "And take out. But you, you owe me an alarm system. Or at least the time and labor it took to fix it."

 

Steve scoffed, "Talk to Nat, she's in charge of my check books."

 

"Did you just-- maybe I'm the one who's sick, am I? I might be delirious," Tony rested the back of his hand against his forehead for a moment, checking his own temperature. "Captain America's asking his wife to cut me a check for his son wrecking my things."

 

"Partner in crime, not wife." Steve stuck his tongue out at Ilya to make the baby smile, sneaking in another bite of cereal around Ilya's grabbing hands. "Here comes the airplane, brrrm!"

 

"And the man who wrecked a plane mimics plane crashes for his child's delight. Does Sam still hide soda in the vegetable drawer?" Tony asked, heading for the fridge, "I'm pretty sure there isn't a bar around here, and you savages didn't leave any coffee in the pot."

 

"Sam hides all his junk food so he can pretend he only eats healthy. If Rhodey hasn't taken them they're behind the carrots." Steve stopped suddenly when Ilya sneezed.

 

"Did you hear that?"

 

"Hear what?" Tony popped the top on the pilfered soda can, leaning back against the counter. "Kid talks?"

 

"He sneezed," Steve leaned down, getting on eye level with Ilya.

 

"Everyone sneezes. We've learned that's not the soul escaping the body, if that's what you're worried about," Tony quipped, "Hand him a tissue and we're good."

 

"No," Steve shook his head, "I think there was a sniffle. Did you hear a sniffle?"

 

"I hear paranoia. Oh man does that sound hypocritical coming from me." Tony blinked, tapping his fingers on the soda can, "Seriously, people sneeze."

 

"You hiding something?" Steve asked Ilya who smiled a gummy smile at him, reaching for the spoon that Steve held just out of reach.

 

Ilya let out a noise of excitement when Steve gave him another spoonful of the cereal finally, chubby hand pressed against his lips as if he had to use it to keep everything inside even as some of it squished out between his fingers.

 

Maybe it was just a normal sneeze? Really, what were the chances of their kid getting sick twice in the same month?

 

**Author's Note:**

> Planned? What is planning? If you have any comments, questions, suggestions, prompts, feel feel to leave them here, or go yell at me on tumblr (anon or otherwise!): https://mysteriousangstninja.tumblr.com/


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